Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) (19 page)

That question would have to wait.  Sam strode to where Hal lay buried, gripping her axe determinedly.  Lane realized, suddenly, that he didn’t want to know what she was about to do.  Dropping his own axe, he rushed forward to intercept her. 

At that moment the oil fire reached the cans of turpentine in the back and a series of explosions rang out.  Within a second, every flammable liquid in the back of the building was on fire.  In a few more seconds, the rest of the store was going to go up.  Samantha, heedless, was pulling pieces away from the wreckage, trying to reach Hal.

“Sam, we have to get out of here!”

“If we don’t stop him, he’s just going to come back!”

“Samantha!”  Reaching forward, Lane grabbed Sam’s arm and yanked her away, “Come on!”  Afraid that she might go back if he released her, Lane gripped Sam’s arm hard as he led her back to their entry point.  It took them only a few seconds to find their way to the front, but they were both gasping and coughing with the chemical-tainted smoke as he hauled Sam through the window and into fresh air.

Suddenly realizing how dizzy he was, Lane staggered to a stop, falling to his knees.  Judging by the way she leaned on him, Sam felt about the same.  But they were out.  And alive.  And for the moment, it was all that mattered.

Until he looked up to see no fewer than three police officers staring them down. 

Ah, shit. 

Chapter
16

For a panicked second, Lane thought they must be under arrest.

And then logic set in.

There was no way they had any idea what had just had happened.  In all likelihood, the police had been summoned by a silent alarm.  Already, he could sense the shock and surprise and, yes, fear, that the fire inspired in them. They had no idea what was going on.

He had to act fast to give them that idea.  It was time to lie.  To lie like he had never lied before.  

Luckily, Sam was swaying dangerously, looking like she was about to collapse—wait—no, maybe not so luckily.  Not feeling so hot himself, Lane almost didn’t lean over in time to keep her head from crashing into the concrete sidewalk as she passed out.  He turned to the officers.  “Help!  She needs oxygen.  Are there paramedics on their way?”  It wasn’t hard to generate a sense of anxiety and concern in them—he had enough to share.  

The two officers rushed to Samantha’s aid.  Concerned as he was, Lane had the foresight to take advantage of their distraction and dump his wallet down a nearby storm drain.  He’d probably regret that later, but for now he needed to keep his identity secret.  Then he turned his attention back to Sam, who looked too blue for comfort.

Sirens grew louder.  A fire truck pulled up to the curb.  The firemen jumped out.  Two came over to the little crowd that had gathered and pushed through, carrying oxygen tanks.  Oh, thank god.

“I think there’s someone else in there!”  Much as he disliked Hal, not reporting his presence would look suspicious later on.  The firemen nodded.  With that and Sam taken care of, Lane decided now was a good time to lie down.  The police tried to ask him questions, but the firemen pushed them away, insisting they needed room to do their work.  In a matter of minutes, Lane and Samantha were loaded onto stretchers and into ambulances, on their way to the hospital.

#

She hadn’t passed out.  People kept telling Samantha she had passed out, but she knew she hadn’t.  She’d been groggy, having trouble breathing, but fully conscious.  Just because she wasn’t really responsive didn’t mean she wasn’t
aware
.  At any rate, Sam was certain she hadn’t passed out because that would have been the third time in the week, and the fourth time in a month.  Which was more than the rest of her lifetime combined and altogether pathetic.  Sam didn’t think she could forgive herself if she remained unable to will herself into staying conscious.  Passing out was for wimps.

But if people wanted to think she had gone unconscious from lack of oxygen, that was fine with her.  The doctor who’d come in twice to see her had been insistent about keeping any non-hospital staff from bothering her and Sam was grateful.  She needed time.  Time to craft a story.  Time to figure out where Lane was and what he might be saying.  Time to formulate an escape.

“Samantha Gibson?”  Samantha looked up to the door, and the nurse standing there smiled, “So it
is
you.”  She held a huge but tasteful bouquet of orchids.

Oh crud.  Dang automatic reactions.  But she was on TV.  Someone was bound to recognize her at some time.  No point in denying it.

“How are you feeling?  Need anything, pillow, blanket?”

“No, thanks.”  Sam looked around, “Uh, is anything keeping me here?”

“No,” the nurse said, placing the orchids on her nightstand.  “Not unless you count the two officers outside of your door,” she added wryly.

“Oh.”

“But I wouldn’t worry about them.  Mostly they’re there to keep the press out.”

“Press?”  Sam imagined one or two reporters from a local TV station.  The appearance of a disappeared girl would be big news in this town. 

“Oh, yes, you’ve got quite a crowd going, you know.  Just look at all this stuff.”

Now that she mentioned it, there did seem to be an unusually large amount of flowers, balloons, and stuffed animals in this room.  Looking at the orchids, Sam plucked the card off and opened it:
Get well soon!  Sincerely, Barbara Snow.  555-1790.
  It took Sam a moment to process that name, but when she finally did her eyebrows crept up a couple of inches.  The nurse, reading her expression, laughed as she left, “To be honest, we haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”    

“All right,” Sam said to herself, “Personal inventory.  Cons, I have no idea where Lane or the boys are.  I may very well be arrested and charged with manslaughter and who knows what else.  I’m surrounded by police and press.  And if they know where I am, I can only assume the Corp does, too.  And no one’s going to let me out of here so I’m essentially a sitting duck.  Pros.”  Sam paused, thinking, “I didn’t get burned alive.”

All right, so that last one was a big pro.  But there was no denying the cons were a little overwhelming. 

It doesn’t matter
, she told herself,
I can figure this out.
  She always did.  Lane was either in the hospital, like her, or at a police station.  She doubted they’d just release him.  She also doubted that Harry or Al would abandon her.  Most likely, they’d try and get a message to her some way.  Her gaze wandered to the abundance of toys and flowers.

Checking to make sure the door was closed, Sam stood cautiously and held onto the edge of her bed until the wave of dizziness passed.  Almost immediately, she felt a drift of cool air on her back.  Oh, right, hospital gowns.  Holding the back together, she managed to make it to the table that held her booty while only stretching the cord that attached a wrist monitor to a life support machine.  Still keeping an eye on the door, she started going through the gifts.  She opened and replaced card after card.  Most were simple, like Barbara’s; various journalists writing to wish her well and, oh by the way, in case she wanted to give them an exclusive interview ... one or two were declarations of love—pretty disturbing considering she hadn’t been on TV for more than a couple days and she might already have weird stalker people after her.  Even more disturbing since they were basing their love on a picture from her senior yearbook.

Then Sam opened a greeting card attached to a small, stuffed kitten with light brown fur and blue eyes.  On the front was a picture of an open window, with a little bird perched on the sill, ready to fly out.  The inside read:
Thinking of you in your time of need.
Under that was scrawled,
You’ll probably want to put pants on first.  XOXO A.H.

Thanks, guys,
Sam thought,
really helpful
.

“The nurse told us she’s awake and talking.”
  The voice coming through the door was muffled but still distinguishable as an angry authoritarian man,
“She sounds fine to me!”

“No, not until I examine her first!”
  That voice was definitely an authoritative male.  No doubt the doctor.

No telling who was going to win that argument, but Sam probably didn’t want to wait to find out.  Going through the drawers she found her clothes, neatly folded.  She pulled on the pants, shoving her T-shirt into her pocket. There was no way to pull it on without disconnecting the monitor, and once she did that, the alarms would go off.  She knew this from prior experience.  For now, she’d just have to be one-quarter naked.  Hustling over to the window, she tugged the life support cart with her.  The beep had already begun to speed up with her accelerated heart rate.  It would probably wail like a banshee the moment she pulled the sucker off.  Lucky for her, her “guards” seemed to be preoccupied with the argument.

“Listen, we have to question her.  She could be a victim or a suspect but we don’t know unless we find out!”

“That’s awfully perceptive, officer.”
“You know what I mean!”

The hospital windows had opened outwards once upon a time, but now the window lock had been sealed and the normal glass had been replaced with glass that had what looked like chicken wire running through it.  Crud.  No way she’d be able to break through—except... Sam noticed a crack in the window jamb, in the weak point of the corner.  Al’s handiwork?  One strong push didn’t do anything, but with the second, Sam was able to wedge the window open, far enough so she could squeeze her body through. 

Looking out, she groaned.  She was on the second floor, which meant it was about fifteen feet to the ground.  Yuck.  At least there were bushes beneath her.  They looked like prickly bushes, but scratches were better than broken bones, right?  Sam leaned forward and then paused.  She looked back at the cute little stuffed kitten.  No one had bought her a real present in so long ... She quickly shuffled back, snatched the toy, and then ran back to the window. 

Taking a deep breath, Sam straddled the sill.  The argument outside quieted.  The men were growing reasonable and within seconds someone would acquiesce.  It was now or never.  She stripped off her life support and pulled the second gown on all the way.  As she’d predicted, the machine started wailing.

Moving fast, now, no time to think.  She dropped the stuffed cat out of the window, made sure she had a firm grip on the ledge, slid her second leg over the sill, and lowered herself. 

Halfway through, her wounded arm decided to stop cooperating.  Sam slipped, so that her body was dangling. Only her right hand’s grip on the sill kept her from her date with gravity. 

 “Wait, Sam, not yet!”

Too late.  Sam’s grip gave out and she fell.

Chapter
17

The fall felt like an eternity, but then she was on the ground, staring at the window some fifteen feet above her.  Had she really fallen that far?  Only her legs were in the bushes.  Her upper half had landed on something much softer.

“Owwwww!”

Apparently, that soft thing was Harry.  Al popped out from behind a nearby bush,
“Quiet, you two!”
he said in a stage whisper,
“And for god’s sake, Sam, get off him!”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Sam said, sliding out of the bush and onto the ground.  She groaned.  Oh, this was going to hurt tomorrow.  

Harry brushed himself off, groaning in pain.  “Why’d you do that?” he asked.  “We had a ladder, see?”

Sure enough, they had an extendable stepladder hidden in the bushes, ready to go.  Yes, that certainly would have been better.  “P.S. — Wait for the ladder,” she said, “Problem solved.”    

Looking around, Samantha found her toy cat in the bushes.  It was only a little dirty.  Gingerly she extracted it, careful to brush the dirt off.  Harry momentarily stopped his whining to look at her, eyebrow arched.  Lifting her chin, Sam stuck the cat under her arm: “Well, you guys gave it to me.”

“We weren’t sure if the police were reading your mail,” Al replied, “We didn’t want to give ourselves away.  Speaking of which.”

Angry voices from above made it clear that Sam’s daring escape had just become common knowledge.  Without a word, Al and Harry led her through the parking lot bordering the building.  They crouched behind a parked car and watched as a man’s head emerged from the window, took a quick look around, and disappeared again.  The yelling was audible even from where they hid.  Still crouched, they used the parked cars for cover and quickly wove their way across the lot.  They ignored the confused stares of one or two pedestrians who must be wondering when the crazy train had arrived.  Then they crawled through the bushes and tall trees bordering the lot, to where the boys had the Land Cruiser parked.  Sam had time to notice that they’d removed the plates before she jumped in, and Al was off.

“Al, fleeing implies guilt.  Maybe you should slow down to try and remain inconspicuous.” 

Al pulled onto a side street and slowed down to only fifteen miles above the speed limit.  He looked over at Sam, “That better?”

She nodded.

“Hey, uh, you realize you’re kinda exposed, right?”  Harry appeared over Sam’s shoulder, handing her a bundle.